


In Vino Veritas

by necronism



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: I compared Frank's dick to a goddamn hoagie you heathens., M/M, drunk friend doing sober friend a favor, everyone is a pro at giving head, gratuitous descriptions of how Micro gives head, look at me. I am the captain of this ship now., smut for the sake of smut, weirdly slow build of power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 01:29:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12877281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/necronism/pseuds/necronism
Summary: A drunken argument over Sarah kissing Frank turns into something just as clumsy.





	In Vino Veritas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MellowJam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellowJam/gifts).



It all started as a joke, as most incidents do; where another party is drunk and the rest of the room has to tolerate their sudden dip in manners. David had drunk enough to put a horse down, but fought through the queasiness to tears into Frank Castle the second he stepped back into their hideaway. On the monitors he had watched his own wife crash into Frank like a truck, lips hesitant and searching - lips he had been missing for nearly a year, a taste he often thought he could find at the bottom of an upturned beer can. At first, he had been stunned to silence, eyes flicking between screens. But he was only seeing the same scene from different angles.

Up until Frank pulled away, David had gripped the side of his desk for dear life. Was he overthinking it? Had Frank kissed her back? Frank Castle wouldn’t, but Pete might be the type of guy. He tapped at the monitor, knowing full well the man couldn’t see or hear the gesture, but hoping full well that he’d remember, sooner or later, that there was no privacy. It was fear and an anger he hadn’t been able to express sober, so it was probably why he decided to get smashed and see if he could forget first. When that didn’t work, he railed on Frank about the situation and was shrugged off.

“It didn’t mean anything,” Frank had said, holding David off by the forehead. His rage was cartoonish, the punches he attempted to swing but outright missed or didn’t actually want to hit Frank. For someone slightly taller than Frank Castle, David couldn’t put much effort into hurting the guy even sober. The following argument had been a blur for David, who at some point was absolutely sure he had pushed down his pants to show the guy his dick.

The same dick he now had clasped in one hand below the bed frame. Whatever the transition had been from petty argument to his other hand firmly pressed to Frank’s bruised hip bone, thumb running over the stubble across his navel. There was a rattle of metal as Frank’s fingers wound around the slatted headboard. His entire back arched, body visibly flexing where David had shoved up his shirt in their unsuccessful brawl of undress. Frank may have been the sober of the two, but he was under the influence of a persuasive touch.

Don’t you miss sex? Frank’s body rolled and bucked at the hint of David’s lips against his skin as he descended his frame. It was like trying to move something out from a sleeping dog, and he was waiting for the moment that Frank snapped and grabbed him by the throat, hauling him off. It didn’t seem to come, Frank’s face turned away and eyes shut tight. A sweat had broken out across his brow, and his pants weren’t even around his ankles. There was touch-starved, and then there was the immediate reaction to David’s fingers slipping below the belt and grating against Frank’s jeans.

They had met eyes briefly, but the intention was clear. A favor for a friend, or whatever the excuse would be later, given either one of them remembered. The head of Frank’s cock pressed to the roof of David’s mouth, now broken from his reverie of staring at how his fingers melded over muscle and bone, pressing gently into bruises to gauge the other man’s reaction. Where he could have reacted in anger or pain, his hips jolted sharply and David gagged, pulling his head back. Alright, that was stupid, but points for trying.

Both hands met at Frank’s hips, holding him down to the bed as he warmed up to the feeling of something so big in his mouth that wasn’t a homemade sandwich. He must have looked like an idiot, barely holding the damn thing in his mouth, too distracted by how Frank was reacting to the whisper of his breath against the underside of his cock. Slowly, he lifted forward on his haunches, body pressed to the bedside as he took the man deeper into his mouth. Or at least, more confidently.

The ache in his jaw was sobering him up, but something about the weight of Frank, the heat against his tongue and skin dragging back as he parted his teeth, it dragged him right back under. Every stifled breath Frank made pulled him in, dragging him into the depths of depravity. His heart pounded in his ears, breath choking as his jaw finally relaxing, head slowly pulling back to let his tongue and lips drag against skin. Frank inhaled slowly, taking a drag of his own, hands holding on to the slats even tighter.

David felt a jolt in his own hips as his head sank back down, body leaving the comfort of the shoddy mattress. Cold air met his dick, and he shuddered, letting out an uneasy moan around Frank. Expletives poured from Frank, who tried to get into a better position near the end of the bed. David’s hands met at the base of his cock, one hand stroking as he caught his breath, already worn out. How long was this going to go on? He had no idea how long he even lasted himself, but the last time he had touched himself was, uh… Shit, David couldn’t think that far back.

He was trying to find a pattern and not make himself cough or gag, able to get him halfway into his throat and the rest could be wrapped in a few fingers, as his other hand fell below to stroke himself. It was an oddly unsatisfying sensation right now, but a part of him was begging for that attention. Even if it came from such a hollow attempt at intimacy, the pleasure was milked by a tight grip and the willingness to find it in his desperation.

A hand fell into his messy hair, nails scraping into his skin. Something about it excited him, but he could no longer look up at Frank and watch him enjoy this on his own. Every gulp and gag seemed to spur him on, but David was starting to get the hang of what he was doing. Every messy, clumsy swallow of the man’s cock, he felt more enthused about touching himself. It was the same itch that needed to be scratched when watching two strangers fuck on the internet. A risk? As if Frank Castle wasn’t enough of a risk, now his fingers were curling into David’s hair, slowly pulling outward.

He would have said “ow” in any manner, but with his mouth full he let out a small moan. Switching knees to balance on, his jerking off became more feverish as Frank began to pant. One hand had remained on the slatted headboard, and with each roll and buck of his hips, it sent the bed swaying and scraping against the concrete floor. Nothing was tearing his attention away now, David’s hand finally parting from the base of Frank’s cock and resting against the bruised hip bone again. The sharp pain in the back of his throat every time Frank went a little too deep was now exciting, the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes until they spilled over.

“Fuck,” Frank rumbled, bringing a leg up on the side of the bed. In an instant, he was sitting up, both hands in David’s head and guiding his head further down. If he were sober, he’d have gone into panic mode rather than letting his hand fall away from Frank completely and letting himself become a sexual appliance. He was able to focus on his own cock now, not letting the question of why this excited him bother him any longer as his newly free hand searched up his shirt, raking in his chest.

Frank panted above him, chin to his chest. His brows were furrowed and cheeks red, possible concentrating on leaving the fact that this wasn’t - wasn’t anyone but Micro, behind. Did it matter? David certainly didn’t seem to mind, breath hitching every time the cock pulled out of his throat and gave him a short moment to take in a breath, hold it, before being forced down again. Instead of switching knees this time, he dropped to both of them now, fully hunched over and at Frank’s mercy (what little there obvious was).

A hand had firmly planted on the back of David’s head, each downward motion a sharp shove. He had no choice but to open his throat, endure the sensation of gagging, and work on breathing through his nose when he could, or when his face wasn’t smothered in fabric or by another man’s midriff. Everything above his shoulders began to grow numb as his hands still traded places along his own cock. Everything seemed to fall in time with Frank’s movements, panting, the cursing under his breath as he used David for his endgame. One not too far from the future, as Frank had begun to tremble.

David shook himself, gut clenching as he withheld his own climax for the sake- he wasn’t sure. Once it was over, it was over, and he couldn’t take it back. What about the thrill of finishing on Frank’s boots and warranting a smack upside the head? He blinked away what tears had gathered in the corners of his eyes again as Frank let him sit up. One hand remained nestled in the back of his hair, the other doing the rest of the work. He stared up at the man, watching the concentration in his face, the turmoil in his furrowed brows, eyes flicking under their lids. His chin jerked up, tongue running across his lips and breathing becoming deeper. Oh, David knew that face. An animal instinct brought his tongue to hang over his teeth. At least right now he could catch his breath...

Frank let out a heavy groan, head slowly falling back to his chest as he came. David felt it across his chin, beard, cheek, briefly tasting him on his tongue before he quickly shut his mouth and tried to sit up, possibly out of the line of fire. The fingers in his hair unwound, falling to his shoulder where they rested, flexing the ache from their constant gripping. Frank slowly opened his eyes, to the sight of David sitting there, panting, with cum on his face, and his own dick in both hands. Total abandon. One Frank immediately turned his gaze from, as if all of this was other window and already years in the past as a mistake.

David slowly shut his mouth completely, bringing a few fingers to his chin and cheek to wipe the cum off. Curious, and because he had swallowed so fast in the heat of the moment, he pressed his fingers to his tongue now, once more gauging this reaction with Frank like he had at the start of all this. Frank had seen, head tilting away and muttering something under his breath about "theatrics".

"You're the one with your dick still out," David croaked, wiping the rest off with his sleeve. He tried to stand, feeling his knees immediately give out and crash him back down to the ground. The only balance he was was Frank and his softening cock, the man currently trying to avoid eye contact with him.

By the time he forced himself to look back, David had staggered up, drunken and half-hard cock waving as he tried to get his pants straight. All at too close a range to ignore. Frank reached out, fingers brushing along the length until he reached David's belt loops, and held him still. At first, the man protested, honestly believing he was being shoved away. Frank stared up at him, catching the eyes of the man barely registering him back. David was tall enough that, with Frank sitting, his cock now rested softly against a bandaged cheek.

“You don’t have to,” he mumbled, putting a hand to Frank’s forehead and giving him a small shove away. His head turned now, catching the man in his mouth. The jolt that went through David’s body was what he had been expecting when his own hands were on him, but it just wasn’t the same. He realized that in an instant, hands clasped to either side of Frank’s head.

“Oh, shit.” More of a frightened exclamation than a whisper of encouragement. He wasn’t about to ask how much Frank had doing this sort of thing, watching the man’s head sink down to his stomach in an instant.

Where did he put his hands when it came to this guy, covered in stitches and bandages? David settled in his thick hair, entire body shaking as it arched toward Frank’s goddamn mouth.  _ Sober  _ mouth, mind you.

It didn’t take long to finish, unfortunately, so the passion wasn’t drawn out, just a man shuddering over as his hands dropped to Frank’s shoulders and held himself still.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck... Frank?”

He eased his cock from Frank’s mouth, and the man fell back, knees knocking up against David’s and forcing him forward. They toppled together, but not in a romantic fashion. David landed on Frank’s chest, Frank let out a grunt and David fell on his ass again, finally able to get his pants back on. The sober bubble that had been wobbling around in his brain finally made it to the frontal lobe and his eyes snapped open.

“Fuck.”

“That’s one way to put it, I guess.”

David kicked at the mattress, trying to slide off of or sit up on Frank, but he soon gave up and stared up at the ceiling of technical basement. Wires and pipes run a maze through everything, and he tried to follow it away from this situation. A heavy hand rested on his thigh and he pulled his head up. Frank didn’t seem as panicked as he had before, as restless underneath that calm facade. His struggling ceased, leads falling around the man’s head as they lay together. Completely defeated, pants still unzipped.

“ _ Fuck. _ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit, I barely slept last night because I kept trying to write the transition from narrative to smut less laughable than it is, but I couldn't. Don't make fun of that, this is smut for the sake of smut and you know it. You know why you read it. And I honestly just spent time giggling at my stupid writing and being surprised that I wasn't more surprised before that Frank/David had a ship. (Sorry for any mistakes, my eyesight flicks back and forth like a mile a minute sometimes I don't catch my own word misplacement.)
> 
> "Both hands met at Frank’s hips, holding him down to the bed as he warmed up to the feeling of something so big in his mouth that wasn’t a homemade sandwich." - Ruderick, "In Vino Veritas" (AO3 2017)
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
